An Easier Proposition
by balladofbliss
Summary: "Maybe the one he loves the most simply isn't the one he's meant to be with." Sam's POV, post 4.03. One-shot.


A/N: Hi, my name is balladofbliss, and I'm a Sam Swarek apologist.

In all seriousness, this little character study was an attempt to explain the inconsistencies between the Sam we saw in the first two seasons and the one we're currently seeing. I think if we're to take what we've seen up through 4.03 at face value, all the talk of "romance of the century" seems horribly obsolete with these two, and I'm hoping this helps reframe things in a light wherein a future reconciliation is possible and realistic.

Mostly, I hope it makes sense.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue, or Josh Joplin Group's "I've Changed", from which the title of this story comes.

* * *

He knows how it must look from where Andy's standing. And regardless of how content he may appear, how neutrally and carefully he approaches any discussion with his ex, he feels Andy's eyes upon him like a brand each time Marlo reaches up for a kiss or an embrace. Her gaze sizzling against his skin, marking him as hers.

The truth is, in one way or another, he always will be.

* * *

Sam's never really understood those people who get everything they want. Even as a child, his demands were always fairly reasonable: permission to play outside until after dark like his cousins from out west, a bike for his seventh birthday, that sort of thing. Nothing extravagant or absurd. But the neighborhood wasn't nearly as safe as the prairie town in which his aunt and uncle had settled, and even if there had been money for a bike, it would likely have been stolen if left outside (and there was no room in their cramped apartment to store it indoors). So after grappling with those initial minor disappointments, he simply adjusted his expectations. A happy and comfortable family; hardly too much to ask for, and his teacher Mrs. Greene even said that the people you love are all you need. Yet somehow, he ended up with a father in and out of jail, a mother in and out of the psych ward, and a sister who spent most of his youth afraid of her own shadow. A roof over his head? Well, technically, he's always managed to achieve that goal. Of course, he frequently dwelled under several different roofs within the same week, dragging his possessions from one foster placement to another in a black garbage bag.

(That was probably the worst of it all, piling insult atop injury. About a year ago, when some charity group approached 15 Division about collecting suitcases to give to foster kids, he blew through a pretty hefty chunk of his savings buying over a hundred of them. Brand new ones with bright colors and sturdy wheels and pull-out handles – nothing that was going to end up in a landfill by mistake.)

Keeping his expectations low clearly wasn't the answer. Sam spent most of his high school years convincing himself that since he clearly didn't need anything in particular to survive, he in turn shouldn't want anything specific. He initially approached the concept of becoming a cop because the TPS recruiter had far fewer interested students at his table than most of the university or military representatives. (Once he actually considered it, he realized that much better reasons existed than 'it was available,' but as far as what put the idea in his head from the outset? It was the shortest line.) Snatched up the seediest undercover assignments, the ones that officers with kids and families and _lives_ wouldn't touch with a fifty-foot pole. Wandered through casual relationships with women who were equally opposed to the attachment of any strings. There was no reason to fight for anything more difficult to obtain when all he would probably do was lose.

And then Andy tackled him to the pavement.

It was relatively easy at first; wanting her had no adverse effect on him, because he couldn't have her and he knew it. Training officers weren't permitted to fraternize with rookies, and then there was everything with Callaghan – and even when it began to wear on him more than he'd ever admit, there was something liberating about all of it. The same obstacles that prevented him from pursuing her also kept him from having something to screw up; without the fear of losing her, he was able to give of himself as he wished. To be everything he wanted.

After the Alpine and Brennan, and the terrifying exhilaration that swept through him when she agreed to attempt normality together, he woke up to a rambling voicemail and an itinerary in his inbox. While he intellectually understood her rationale, the prospect of months with nothing but his thoughts was perhaps the worst possible scenario for him. Unable to accomplish much during the first few weeks of his own suspension – broken body and all – he'd spent most of his time staring in the general direction of his TV and overanalyzing their brief union and her abrupt departure. It was disappointing, sure, and frustrating as all hell – but the most pervasive feeling was that of defeat. _There it is again: shouldn't have bothered getting your hopes up in the first place, Sammy._

He drank because it seemed like a better option than overtly wallowing in self-pity, played basketball with Jerry once his hand and knee had pretty much healed, and drove to the airport after receiving an email with flight times and multiple exclamation points. When she pleaded for a fresh start, he couldn't say no – never really had been able to deny her anything – and they launched into something with which he couldn't keep up. Around the time she started asking where things were going, he was realizing that he was the dog who'd caught his tail, the politician who won an election only to ask his advisors, "Well, now what do I do?"

He finally had all he'd admittedly wanted, and he had absolutely no idea what to do with it.

It wasn't especially helpful that she was like emotional whiplash more often than not. One minute she was asking him not to go anywhere if things became difficult, the next she was angrily ordering him to butt out of her life, and the next time he turned around she was talking international vacation – as soon as he figured out how to play her game, she changed the rules.

(He knows even now that she wasn't doing so out of malice or thoughtlessness; he'd simply managed to fall for the one person on the planet worse at asking for what she wanted than he himself.)

It was his inability to ask for what he wanted that led to the ultimate demise, really. Not that things had been all that fantastic before that day – or ever – but if neither of them could make their desires clear to one another, he was at a loss as to how to continue. And maybe on any other day, he would have gritted his teeth and they could have pushed through it until the next crisis, but he was exhausted and she was relentless and they weren't not on the same page so much as they were in entirely different books. _Trouble from the start._

He regretted it, of course, screened her calls because he knew he'd be jumping in the car to drive to her place before she'd finished saying hello. Choked down the words that desperately attempted to escape once he found himself standing before her – _I love you, I'm sorry, let's try again _– and instead forced out some shit about his spare keys. Finally broke down and confessed his feelings at the worst possible time imaginable.

Still, he asked her to start with a drink. Hoped against hope he'd get what he wanted, but when she didn't walk through the door… well. It just proved that he'd made next to no progress since he was twelve years old. He spent that night (and several after) drowning the sting of loss and remorse in Scotch, and emerged from the haze newly committed to wanting nothing at all.

* * *

Like everything and everyone else before Andy, Marlo was available and willing, and hasn't cost him any additional effort. She's been entirely upfront about what she likes – long runs side-by-side in absolute silence, bottled sparkling water when they go out for meals, public displays of affection – and it's been pretty straightforward for him to follow her lead.

(Not that he's ever really been one for PDA, particularly given Andy's devastated glances following him down the halls of 15 every time they walk in with arms around one another – but he can handle a little discomfort if it keeps Marlo happy.

Really, just because she'll never be anything more than a distraction to him doesn't mean he ought to treat her as such.)

So he'll take the road most often traveled, shiny and well-paved, while his heart occasionally emerges from beyond the white noise his life has become and reaches out to Andy. At least he can rely on his head to regain control before he really blows it by saying something stupid and reckless and genuine – _I love you, I'm sorry, let's try again _ – and instead follows up with _see you tomorrow_.

Cool and impartial as can be, but it doesn't stop him from beginning to hope she sees through it anyway.

_Knock it off_, he thinks as he pulls away from the station, turning left to avoid passing Andy on her walk home. _You're just asking for trouble._

Maybe not everyone is destined for a happy ending. Maybe the one he loves the most simply isn't the one he's meant to be with – it's what happened to his parents, it's probably where Oliver and Zoe are headed, and he's pretty sure it's his fate as well. Maybe that's been the universe's plan all along: good enough is good enough. _Don't push your luck._

But maybe, just maybe… one of these days he'll wake up and remember how to fight.


End file.
